No more
extensions to our marina stay permitted. We have to leave today. It's
not ideal weather with passing squalls and we suspect the prop has
fouling because we've been here too long. The water in the marina is
dirty with road water run off, boat yard chemicals & grey water,
not good enough to dive and clean the hull but we have only to
manoeuvre out of our berth and run 500m down the channel before
reaching open water where we'll be able to switch to sail power.
We're going to Iles des Saintes today.
David's
on helm, the dock master releases our forward lines and I slip the
aft ones and we're away. Slowly out into the channel; the prop's less
effective than we anticipated and we're making 3 knots, half our
usual speed under motor. Going down the channel the wind is picking
up as a squall approaches so we pull out the mainsail to give us a
wind assist.
As we're
approaching the narrow exit out to open water which is marked with
two reds to left and two greens to right indicating the reefs, when
what you don't want to happen happens. David is on deck stowing the
fenders and dock lines before we get into open water. I'm on helm.
Suddenly in a strong gust of wind the mainsail halyard breaks and the
sail slumps. The normally aerodynamic sail now has
taken on the characteristics of an out of control parachute pulling
us sideways to the starboard side of the channel.
A slumped sail is a disaster with in mast furling because you can't just drop it to
reduce the windage. We have 26 knots of wind and rain on our port
beam and reefs with breaking water to leeward. With the sail slumped
on the boom, held within the mast, I see the wind is going to push us
dangerously close to the reef to starboard.
Action
mode! My judgement in these conditions was that we didn't have
sufficient sea room or power to safely turn Jackster around within
the markers and retreat back to the marina. I won't be able to turn
the bow through the wind and turning the stern runs the risk of being
pushed onto the rocks. We can only go forward and hope.
David
furls the sail into the mast as much as possible and grabs sail ties
and ropes to lash the rest to the boom to reduce windage. I'm on helm
steering hard to port, just off the wind to maintain position and
making a frightening 1 knot ahead. The rain's coming down hard. The
wind's gusting over 25 knots. David's on deck grappling to lash the
sail and we're slowly getting pushed toward the green marker and
white water. There's a yacht coming in which sees we are in danger
and turns around to give us room and, I think, standing by to assist
if we go aground.
Gradually
we ease out of the channel but there's very little distance, perhaps
50m, on our starboard side to the breaking waves. My knees are
shaking. This is close, much too close. Once we have cleared the
green marker we try a bit of headsail to gain more forward motion and
this helps us to claw metre by metre clear of danger.
We may
be out into deeper water but still not safe. The squall has passed,
wind speed has dropped and our direction is now more favourable.
We're making 3 knots, crabbing sideways. Our lee shore distance has
increased to one mile. Now I can engage the autopilot and go forward
to help David complete lashing the sail. He's got it stashed on the
boom but has to go up the mast using the mast steps to stop the
flogging on the mast and irreparably damaging the sail cloth. Once
lashed this further reduces the uncontrolled windage. There are more
shallow areas to negotiate before we are entirely clear of danger.
Finally
we are under control. Shaken by the near miss, we could have lost
Jackster. We came very close to it. The closest we've ever been to
losing her. A friend once asked the question 'what's the most
dangerous part of sailing? Land.
From the
halyard snapping to sailing safely in the right direction has taken
just over 40 minutes but it felt a lot longer. In the quiet I can now
hear the French Coastguard on VHF 16 putting out a call, first to a
catamaran which has dismasted north of Guadeloupe in the same squall
and then for a ketch in difficulties south of Pointe-a-Pitre channel.
That's us! We presume the yacht that stood by to help saw our problem
and reported it. During the kerfuffle I wasn't listening to the radio
and wouldn't have had time to answer it anyway. Now I do and can
respond to them. I call the coastguard HQ who are located in Fort de
France, Martinique to report our position, how many on board, that we
are now safe and sailing to the Saints. We consider it is safer to
sail on than to turn and motor back through the narrow entrance into
the marina. In the Saints the mooring field is in the lee of the
island and even with limited prop power we'll pick up a mooring.
Four
hours later and we are safe on a mooring. Behind the island the wind
was less than 5 knots and I helmed us in, David on the bow with the
special boat hook that gets a line through a ring. Phew! Once we're
secure I call coast guard HQ to report our arrival and to thank them
for their watch.
Now we
can assess what went wrong and what the remedial steps will be. The
halyard parted at the point it goes over the pulley at the top of the
mast probably due to age. David checked it less than a year ago when
we put the new sail up and there was no sign of wear then. The two
problems we have to solve are undoing the hasty untidy furling and
dropping the sail and how to get a new line down the inside of the
mast. We've done it before with cables to the anchor light and we'll
do it again, but not tonight. It's not been a good day on Jackster,
sunset is approaching and we've earned a large gin and tonic while we
debate what we did right and what we could have done better, should
it ever happen again. What doesn't kill you, make you stronger –
according to the song! |
| sail lashed & sailing on |
 |
| slumped part way down mast |
 |
| chafed halyard |
